


Whatever You Say, I Do

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [92]
Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Ideas Seem Brighter In Bed, M/M, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Mads has some ideas for aHannibalscript. Hugh is not impressed.





	Whatever You Say, I Do

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Elizabethan Era. Prompt from this [generator.](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator)

_That the man is new to court is without question._  
  
_His face is poorly controlled; contempt everywhere. Hannibal thinks the man is not even trying._  
_  
_             _He likes this man, already_.

“A period piece?” Hugh made a low retching sound and toppled over backwards, spreading his arms through the sheets as if they were snow. “I’ve had quite enough of those to last several lifetimes, thanks.”

“But costumes,” Mads said around his coffee cup, setting his lines of thought paper on the table. “Pretty clothes on you, even. You are very pretty in breeches, _nydelig_.”

A snort, a kicking of the legs. “Itchy,” Hugh said. “Itchy and bloody uncomfortable as fuck. I can’t believe you like the damn things.”

Mads shrugged. “Not just me. Bryan likes, too.”

“Bryan likes--?” Hugh sat up, startled rabbit. “I thought we were talking in the abstract here.”

“Abstract? Mmmm. Talking in ideas only. But Bryan likes it.”

“He likes _what_ , exactly? Some specificity would be much appreciated here, Mads.” Hugh’s face was the color of jam, the color it was when Mads kissed him. It made Mads want to.

He set aside his cup--empty now, anyway--and stood up, stretched his bare arms to the sky. Felt Hugh’s eyes on him. Good. That was good. “What I just read to you: an idea for something Hannibal might dream, or see somewhere in his mind. This is it, specifically. What I talked to Bryan about.”

“And he said: _Oh, well done Mads. Good job for having a think. Now get back to reading my scripts_. That’s what he said to you, surely.”

Mads chuckled. “Mmm, no.” He took a step towards the bed and let his skin do the speaking, let it call out for Hugh’s hands. They listened, drifted up to touch like he was sand and Hugh was an ocean, licking. “He said, this idea, I like it. He may steal it, he said.”

Hugh groaned, an unhappy sound, but his mouth did not feel unhappy where it found Mads, bit gentle at the broad stretch of his chest. “If I have to wear anything with a goddamn ruffled collar, I’m taking it out on your hide.”

“Uh huh,” Mads said. He climbed his fingers into Hugh’s hair, let them curl there. Hold on tight. “Of course you will be.”

“I can be very intimidating when I want to be.”

“Uh huh,” Mads said again, distracted, because Hugh’s tongue was very nice, the way it was moving, and it made him want to find Hugh’s hips and hold him close, hard. “Very frightening. Not to hurt me, huh?  Whatever you say, I do.”

“Promises, promises,” Hugh said. Faster now were his words and his heart. “I’m going to hold you to that. Maybe even repeat it out of context.” He tipped his head back, balanced, and gave Mads the widest, trickiest smile. “Would you like that, old man? Me telling you what to do?”

“Mmm. Not so much as you would to tell.”

A deeper voice, low, one Mads didn't know. “Let’s try it then, shall we?”

“Yes,” Mads said. “Please.”

Hugh slipped out of Mads’ grip, let his own fingers fall, lay back again on rumpled sheets. “Come down here and kiss me, then.”

Mads braced his arms on the end of the bed, blood in his body boiling better than coffee. Sweeter, too. Took a minute to look. Just to look. Pale skin dancing red; long limbs promising muscle. Pretty cock stretching arms towards the sky and dark eyes warm; hands running fist so as not to touch. Ah, Hugh, he thought. Always wanting so much.

“What did I say,” Hugh said to him, gruff, but laughter there, just behind.

“Tsk,” Mads said, crawling up onto the bed. “Impatient. I heard you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A sort-of continuation of the dynamic drawn [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005255).


End file.
